a peek inside the poetic freak

There’s something I just realized a minute ago. Sunday, December 1st 2013, at 23.25.

I found—if it really does exist in my unconsciousness—the deeper meaning to why I type so much but write so little at one sitting when it comes to complaints or stories or articles, yet vice versa goes when I do poetry. It all has something to do with the way I do poetry.

Well, my poetry’s pretty crappy. Yes, it still rhymes pretty well, but there’s rarely that feeling of awe you get from the way I put together words. I don’t pursue it as a passion. Yes, I tear up and go emotional over other people’s works, but I don’t collect them or purposely make time to read them.

I do poetry—or at least, what I call it—because I find expressing myself with rhymes so blissful. I’m not trying to be that single eclectic girl in class who’s sort of a loner and spends time reading and writing things others may find baffling, but I am who I am. And I have my own way, though I’m sure I’m not the only one who walks in it, to write poetry; I rarely rewrite anything. No changing words, no rearranging the lines. Yes, I do squeeze in a word or add an extra line at times, but the intensity is next to none. Even when I make a mistake in writing the words I sometimes just let them be for some reason.

Meanwhile, I realise that my writing is often flawed. Either the plot’s too slow or quick, some of the details clash, even an occasional loophole. And one more thing; putting aside short stories I did in exams, I’ve only finished one piece of writing. And I threw the whole book away about a fortnight later. So, yeah. I’m a failure. Haha ~

Okay, back to why I even started typing this.

When I write/type poetry, it becomes a platform for me to pour out anything I feel. Though in reality if I talked to someone about the subject of my rhymes, I might’ve used slightly different words, but it’s sufficient enough to give an image of what I think or how I feel about someone or something. Meanwhile, compare it the things you have to think about when you’re going to write something. If people are going to read it, what will they find? A reflection of you? Or maybe themselves? Will they feel like you’ve put them in the story plot, making a character wholly or partly like them?

And don’t even get started about naming the characters! If you’ve tried to write a full-length novel or something of the like, you know what I mean. When you like a certain name but you have a friend who has that same name, or if you’re afraid putting a name for a certain character will make the name owner feel offended (provided he/she gets to read it) and a ton of other micro problems that seem so huge when you actually have to deal with it. Plus, if a friend finds out he/she is in your plot, the overflowing comments can get unbearable.

“Why do I have to be with this guy? Why can’t I be with the other guy?”

“Dude, make sure I have a happy ending, okay?”

“Hey, why did you kill me in this scene!? I wanted to live, at least until chapter six!”

And so on. And so on.

Oh, and even friends who aren’t related in any way to the story can also be like that. That’s why I usually stop in the middle. Let them be angry that you don’t update your stories anymore. It’s because of them.

In poetry, you usually just get comments. Like “It’s nice, really.” “I didn’t even know you did poetry!” or something along the lines of “Can you do one about (insert theme)?” in which case they usually don’t protest (too much) about the result. They’re happy enough that you actually did their request.

I guess that’s why I love both, but when it comes to sharing it, I’d rather do poetry. As for my writing, let it be for me and me alone. At least until people can grow up and realise that the whole story is in the hands of the writer, not in the hands of the readers.